In the larger lineages more was at stake than simple defence of rights. They had prestige and influence in the village to maintain. A large close-knit lineage with a goodly number of reliable knives and guns was clearly worth belonging to, and the restraints and demands of such a group on its members would not outweigh the advantages of membership.
Prestige was also dependent on honour, namus , and this was directly related to the women of lineage households. To show interest in a woman other than by formally seeking her hand in marriage was a deadly insult to her menfolk. Most killings, or attempted killings, while I was in touch with this area were directly or indirectly the result of the alleged `insulting' of a woman.
The toughness with which a man chose in practice to defend his honour would clearly be highly variable. Those at the bottom of the village hierarchy were less concerned anyway with the honour of their women, particularly if these had already lost it. The better-off, by leading quiet and virtuous lives, marrying virtuous women, and not attending too closely to gossip and suspicion, might avoid quarrels; but others seemed to seek trouble and be ready at the slightest hint of dishonourable intentions to resort to violence. Clearly, the more sensitive a man is to his honour the more he needs lineage support.
I have already stressed the absence of any clear criterion for effective lineage membership, except at times of actual violence. I have also shown that only a proportion of households in each village belonged to effective lineages, most of which contained a core of better-off households, and a number of poorer ones. This arrangement is in a sense only a special case of the normal structure of village social relations. The richer and more influential men act as protectors and helpers for the poorer and weaker ones, so that the village consists of pyramid-like groups centred on the more powerful. The size of a man's following increases his importance, and his importance in turn brings in